


baggage

by laskofresho



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bodily Fluids, Family Bonding, Gross, M/M, Manipulation, Object Insertion, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laskofresho/pseuds/laskofresho
Summary: “Hey, don’t say I was never there for you on your journey of adolescent self-discovery, Morty.”





	baggage

**Author's Note:**

> probably takes place in s1.

“Oh, man, c-come on…”

Morty was practically sweating as he reached around behind himself, his fingers slipping on his bare skin. Usually when he was forced to carry his grandpa’s contraband, once home, he could get it out with about twenty minutes of private time and the use of muscles he dreaded to admit were well-trained at that point. At least Rick would warn him in advance if his services were necessary, and he could prepare, so the removal process went a little, well, _cleaner._

Working his index and middle finger in, he bent over the bathroom counter, trying to reach the object deep inside his body. At least it wasn’t sharp or too hard, some kind of organic material they’d smuggled out, but it was too deep for him to just grab for, himself. He’d gotten the first two tennis ball sized objects out easily enough, but that third one was a bitch. Starting to panic, he’d tightened up inside, only succeeding in pulling it further within himself.

He laid his forehead down on the bathroom counter and groaned. With his pants and underwear around his thighs, his shirt pushed up due to his body’s nervous overheating, the last thing he wanted was having to ask Rick to come in and aid him. He’d gotten better at this unpleasant part of being a sidekick, but it was humiliating to have to ask him for help. Mercifully, his grandfather mostly kept the jokes and snide words to himself in these particular situations, but he didn’t want to be seen like this.

Gritting his teeth, worked his index finger back inside, just as a knock at the door sounded. Morty clenched his eyes shut, gulping in deep breaths of air.

“Hey, little buddy, how’s it go— _oughh_ —ing in there?”

“It’s— it’s going f-f-fine, Rick!” he yelped.

He pushed his middle finger back into his ass, desperately. He didn’t want Rick to come in.

The door handle started rattling, and Morty hurriedly stood up, yanking his underwear over to cover himself. Before he could completely cover his dick, his grandpa had stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Morty swallowed thickly. Luckily, nobody else was home.

“Jesus, Morty,” said Rick, dramatically holding his nose. “You wanna crack a window, or— or light a candle or something? It smells like, ugh, it smells like ass in here.”

His face went an ugly shade of red, to the tips of his ears. “S-screw you, Rick! This is your fault!”

“My fault?” He pressed a hand to his chest, advancing to where Morty was still trying to cover himself. His hand shot out grabbing Morty’s wrist, dragging it away from where he was trying to pull up his underwear. “Hey, Morty, it’s not my fault you can’t— _eurrp_ — you can't reliably perform your only worthwhile function.”

“I got two out,” Morty said, scowling. He let his hand fall away, his ass and his balls still hanging out of his crooked underwear. The pants fell listlessly to the ground. “It’s just that stupid last one. I c-can’t reach, my arms aren’t long enough.”

“You’ve already tried pushing, Morty?” he asked, dryly. His hands went up to Morty’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length like this was some kind of motivational pep-talk. Rick's eyes were piercing as he pinned him down with his gaze. “You tried shitting it out?”

His face went red. “O-of course, I—”

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence as Rick manhandled him facedown onto the counter. He attempted to lift his head to see what was happening, but Rick held him by the back of his neck and forced it back down. Morty breathed heavily as Rick stepped beside him, a hand smoothing down the length of his back to his tailbone. Two fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down. 

Shaking, Morty heard the snap of a latex glove, before bare fingers were grazing his asscheek. “R-Rick, I don’t—”

“Shut up, dummy.”

He bristled as he felt Rick’s breath against the backs of his thighs. He hadn’t realized his grandpa had knelt down on the floor. His face was so close to his ass that it was embarrassing. Why the hell would he want to look so closely?

“Can you just get it out?” he said, his voice dangerously close to a whine. It was starting to become uncomfortable, like a brick inside of him. “This thing isn’t g-gonna liquefy my insides or something, is it?”

“No. It won’t liquefy you but it might— well, it doesn’t matter, cause we’re gonna get it out. And for that, I’m gonna need you to relax,” came Rick’s voice, behind him. The side of his latex covered hand pressed against the opposite cheek, spreading him open. A thumb grazed his stretched, swollen hole and Morty made a quiet, high sound. He spread his feet out wider, making more room, even if his heart was pounding so hard it felt like his ribcage might crack. “Yeah, like that— good boy.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d had to do this. Somehow, he _did_ feel more relaxed when Rick was helping him, even if it made him cringe to think about it too much. It was kind of gross. There had even been one time he hadn’t been able to fit an object in, and crammed into a dirty alien truckstop bathroom they’d worked it inside him together, Morty panting and practically crying from the painful stretch. He'd thought he might rip. Still, Rick had kept him calm enough to get it inside, had mercifully drugged him to get it out again, later.

His cheek pressed hard against the cool surface of the counter, Morty forced his muscles to relax as he reached back to hold his ass open. He winced when Rick didn’t waste any time, pushing two of his much longer fingers inside of him, straight to the base of his knuckles.

“Jesus, you weren’t lying. That’s really up— _eeurrp_ — really waaaay up in there, isn’t it?”

“I told you so,” he mumbled, mortified. “Just get it out!”

His shoulders pulled up tighter against his ears as Rick’s fingers wiggled around inside him. They were getting so much deeper, and he was so loose from his own strained efforts that it felt nice. God, he didn’t want to pop a boner and make this situation any weirder than it already was.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, he felt Rick’s gloved thumb press into him alongside his other two fingers. “Okay, Morty, you’re gonna wanna— push now, push it into my hand.”

He grit his teeth, bearing down in an effort to expel the object inside of him. He made a weak sound in his chest as it became too much, pushing his ass out as he strained. 

“Like birthing a cow, I swear.”

“Shut _up_ , Rick! I’m not a freakin’ cow!”

“Yeah, you’re right, if that was the case I’d be up to the elbow inside of you and I got looong arms, Morty.”

He panicked, rising up to his forearms. “D-don’t!”

Rick pushed him down with a gentle hand. “Don’t tense up, I’m joking, hey, don’t clench you’ll— just a little more, Mo— _ouurgh_ —ty, almost got it.”

A hand shifted to nudge at the back of his thigh, urging his leg up to put his foot on the lid of the toilet next to the counter. He kicked out of the leg of his pants, his toes hooking onto the cold porcelain. The position gave him more leverage, but also left him embarrassingly more exposed. 

He hid his face on the countertop, his forehead cold with sweat. “Rick…”

Rick’s free hand rubbed at his lower back, before shifting to help hold open his ass where Morty’s own hands had started to weaken. “I know, buddy, you’re almost done.”

Physically shaking, Morty felt the exact sensation when Rick’s fingers were able to hook over the orb inside of him, starting to pull it out of him. His cock twitched as it started to breech, and he groaned as Rick finally managed to pull it loose from his body. The sound of suction made him wince, but relief flooded him as Rick stood, the object sticky and wet in his gloved palm.

“Great, it’s covered in your ass juice, Morty.” He deposited it listlessly into the sink with the other two, turning the tap on. “Jesus, that smells like liquid fart.”

“W-what else did you think was gonna happen?” he said, indignantly, as he got up to his elbows. He let his foot slip back down to the floor. “It was up my butt for three hours, Rick!”

He went to stand, pull himself away from the counter, but was faced with a different problem. He’d gotten hard at the end of it. Flushing, he kept his hips pinned against the cupboard. “Can you get out already!?" Morty whined. "Adventure over, you have your— your big ass _balls_ or whatever, so get out!”

Rick raised his brow, stripping his glove off from the wrist. His eyes dipped down to Morty’s crotch, and he chuckled. “Hey, don’t say I was never there for you on your journey of adolescent self-discovery, Morty.” His eyes didn’t move away. Rick’s tongue darted out, swiping the spittle on his lower lip. “Show me.”

“Jeez, Rick, is that really nece—”

“It’s extremely _’nece’_. If those hallestrian orbs were far enough into your intestinal tract they might’ve started to dissolve inside you. Any physical anomaly could indicate an early onset reaction of your nervous system failing, right before your organs start to shut down.”

He practically leapt away from the counter, staring in horror down at his erection. “Seriously!? Oh shit! Rick, does my dick look okay!? Tell me it’s not gonna fall off!”

No matter how hard he willed it, he wasn’t getting any less hard. Sometimes when him and Rick would get into scary situations he would get a hard-on, sure, but this was an entirely different situation. Oh, God, maybe he was really about to die. 

“Rick, what do I do!?”

“You gotta—” Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at him. “Morty, you gotta jack it.”

“I have to _what!?”_

“Jack yourself off, Morty.”

It sounded urgent. Hesitantly, Morty’s hand went to his dick, and he shyly turned away. “Don’t watch me!”

“God, why would I _want_ to watch you fondle your tiny weiner, you idiot? I’m just here to make sure you don’t, I don’t know, turn fuschia and start to rot from the inside out.”

Planting one hand on the counter, he angled his body away from Rick. There wasn’t enough space in the tiny upstairs bathroom for him to be completely obscured. His dick was still obnoxiously hard in his hand as he started to stroke himself, but he was too aware of Rick’s heavy breathing behind his back.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to force his mind to focus on something less scary than the potential imminent pinkening and subsequent decaying of his skin and organs. Jessica’s face, her boobs, manifested in his mind’s eye as it often did. He started to move his hand, still slick with the lubricant Rick had given him ages ago for easier insertion. It did feel good, but he couldn’t let go the way he usually did, not with his grandpa standing a foot away from him.

His dick was still hard and aching in his palm. There had to be something wrong with him.

“Jeez, Rick, this is— this isn’t working!” 

“What’s the matter, little buddy?” He sounded closer. Morty turning his head to find Rick standing next to him against the counter. Rick reached to touch his shoulder through his t-shirt, and he flinched reflexively, even if the touch was somewhat soothing. He realized all of a sudden how hot he felt. “Jeez, you’re really— you’re burning up, Morty.”

“Aw, man,” he mumbled, turning to his grandpa for reassurance. “Am I gonna die?”

Rick looked at him very seriously. “Everyone dies, Morty.”

He let out a low whine, his hand dropping away from his cock, which was apparently overjoyed at the knowledge of his soon-to-be demise. He sure felt like he was dying. 

He didn’t expect Rick grabbing his wrist, pushing his hand back towards himself. “Don’t stop, Morty. Come on, buddy, Grandpa— Grandpa’s gonna he— _eeeul_ —lp you.”

Sniffling, Morty started touching himself. He jumped a little when Rick’s hand pressed at his back, bending him over the counter once more. He glanced upwards, catching himself in the mirror, his weepy expression disgusting him. Putting his forehead down, he breathed uneasily, feeling his grandfather’s hands part his ass. “W-what, do you think there’s s-something left inside?”

Rick didn’t answer him. Instead, the pad of a finger rubbed at his swollen hole, before pressing inward. He wasn’t wearing a glove, this time. Every time they’d ever done this, Rick had worn a glove. The sensation of skin made Morty pant. He must’ve been worried if he’d just gone in bare like that.

“Rick, is it—”

“Morty, shut the fuck up. Touch— touch yourself.”

He whined high in his throat, pushing his forehead into the counter until it felt like it was going to bruise. Rick had worked a second finger into him, and was just moving them in and out, curling them upward inside of him. He hoped whatever it was left inside of him, he could get it out, before it was too late. He didn’t want to go out like this. What would Mom and Dad think? They'd probably disown him.

The squelch of Rick’s hand against his insides was so audible in the tiny bathroom, like it was echoing against the walls, the sound of his own hand moving almost deafening. He could still hear Rick’s breathing, how ragged it was, and he focused on it before his mind started to white out. He felt so full, Rick’s fingers pressing against something inside of him that set his nerves off. It felt so fucking good. 

Morty’s hand started to stutter, his senses overwhelmed. “Rick, I— I can’t—” 

Rick’s other hand took over for him, curling around his cock. Rick’s body pressed against his back, his breath hot against his neck. “It’s okay, baby, Grandpa’s— Grandpa’s got you.”

He felt so safe in his grandpa's hands. His shoulders pulled up tight and he clenched his teeth, his leg muscles spasming as Rick drove his fingers deep inside of him. The hand on his cock moved just the way he liked, the grip stronger and steady. It didn’t take much for him to hit his peak, crying out as he curled his fingers into the counter with the force of his completion. 

Sweating, Morty collapsed against the counter, his own arms pinned beneath him. Rick’s hand left his cock, but the one inside of him stayed, unmoving. He expected him to pull away, or mock him. He couldn’t hear Rick’s breathing anymore, his grandpa standing completely still behind him.

“D-does this mean I’m not gonna die?” Morty mumbled, after a moment. 

Rick didn’t answer him. 

He lifted his head. “Rick?”

Morty made a small sound as Rick slipped his fingers out of his body. He sagged against the counter, his knees giving out beneath him. Distantly, he heard the sink running beside his head, the scent of the lavender hand soap Mom liked permeating his senses. 

He forced himself up to his palms, feeling Rick’s hand on his sweaty back over his shirt. It was gone in a second, before he heard the sound of the shower turning on behind him. “Get in, Morty.”

“I’m— I’m gonna be okay, right?” He glanced at himself in the mirror. He seemed to look okay, no more pink than usual, if a little flushed.

“Yeah, Morty, you’re gonna be fine,” said Rick, his voice gone strange and rough. “Don’t— don’t worry about it. Everything’s gonna be just fine, everything’s— everything's _normal.”_

Rick pulled at him, and Morty let himself be moved, lifting his arms when prompted for his shirt. Rick undressed him like a little kid, before nudging him into the shower stall. He felt all nice and floaty, having permission not to think about what he was doing, what was happening to him. Rick pulled the curtain closed, obscuring himself from view. He didn’t spend more than a moment gathering the orbs, before he was slipping out the door, leaving Morty by himself.

Well, that was a little disappointing. He liked these moments having Rick all to himself. He’d never had a friendship like that before.

“S-see you downstairs,” Morty mumbled, to no one in particular. “I guess.”

Trying to crush the weird dejected feeling, he stuck his head under the spray. The hot water felt good on his muscles, and he was that satisfying kind of tired, in the way he always was after an adventure or a particularly good jerkoff session. Both of those things had happened, after all. 

Standing there in his own thoughts, he started to feel a little weird and embarrassed. He’d jizzed all over the counter, for Pete’s sake, and Rick had watched— had helped. At least his dick hadn’t fallen off. His grandpa was just taking care of him, they were family, it was nothing he hadn’t already seen anyway.

He’d cleaned up the bathroom, changed into a loose shirt and shorts before heading downstairs. He felt refreshed, standing tall, as he padded into the living room. Rick was sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his flask in one hand, his head in the other as he hid his face between his parted fingers.

Morty rounded to his side of the couch, throwing himself onto the cushions. “P-p-pretty good adventuring today, huh, Rick.”

His hand slipped down his face, Rick scratching the side of his nose with his thumb as he drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah, Morty, it was real— it was good.”

“You— you wanna watch TV with me?” He reached to the coffee table for the remote, turning it on. “H-hey, new episode of Ball Fondlers! Your favorite, Rick.” 

He heard the sound of the front door open and shut, Mom and Dad coming inside, arguing loudly as they went into the kitchen. Rick didn’t seem to react, even when Summer came into the living room, texting, as she took her usual spot in the armchair off to the side. 

It was good, having everyone together. He scooted closer to Rick, leaning his head against his grandpa’s side with a sigh of contentment. He knew he was too old to cuddle like this, like a child, but it felt nice. When Rick’s arm came around his shoulders, holding him in close, he knew that things were going to be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry 2 mortys asshole and general life. i binged the comics this weekend and enjoyed the frequent references 2 morty being a human backpack way too much


End file.
